


if only.

by lucifersthrone



Category: South Park
Genre: Gay, Gay Panic, I love my boys, M/M, South Park References, Stan is baby, heather - Freeform, i want more style moments, kyle is not heather, mlm, pretty gay, so is kyle tho, south park is my religion, wish i were heather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25905232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersthrone/pseuds/lucifersthrone
Summary: Kyle Broflovski wishing he were Heather.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kyle Broflovski/Bebe Stevens, Kyle Broflovski/Heidi Turner, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Stan Marsh/Wendy Testaburger, Style - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	if only.

**Author's Note:**

> I am all for guys having intimate platonic relationships, but I can't deny the tension between Stan and Kyle. For very clear reasons they are aged up in this fic.

The music hadn’t stopped roaring since the moment Kyle stepped foot at the party. Kenny was off somewhere getting laid, and Cartman was being his usual obnoxious self. Kyle didn’t care what they were doing though. He kept to himself in a corner, watching the crowd move on without him. It wasn’t that he disliked parties, he usually had a good time; he was an expert at beer pong. It was just the people there--or, the one person there. Stan had brought Wendy along with them to the party. She would have come on her own anyways with Bebe there, but it was the fact that they went _together_. Stan brought Wendy everywhere. They had been going strong for two years, even after Stan went to rehab for his alcohol addiction. 

Kyle felt a little guilty. He was supposed to be supportive of his friend’s long-term relationship--he was in the beginning. But things change. _He_ changed. Kyle couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, but it stemmed with Stan. He found himself fixated on anything Stan did; brushing his teeth, ordering food, watching The Terrance and Phillip Show. Every laugh that exited Stan's mouth, revived Kyle, like he was breathing air for the first time. This had been going on for a few months until the “incident,” that’s when his feelings got out of control. The night before Stan was sent to rehab.

It was December. Winter-break. And the perfect atmosphere for Stan’s drinking habits to get out of hand. Christmas get-togethers happened almost every week, Kyle invited, but never appeared. He was Jewish, after all, and his mother didn’t like the idea of him celebrating another religion’s special occasion. He never went to the Christmas parties anyways, but Kyle’s constant “no-show” was interrupting Stan’s good mood. He missed his best friend, even if Kyle was just a block or two away. The night of Wendy’s friends and family get-together, Stan had one too many drinks. Crying, embarrassed, and feeling hopeless, Wendy escorted him from her house. Kyle was waiting for him on the sidewalk and put his arm around his stumbling friend. Stan latched on, hurt and confused as to why everyone he loved kept shutting him out. Kyle snuck Stan into his room and handed him a glass of water. 

Stan chugged the water, incoherently complaining about the world being against him. Kyle shook his head dismissively. They sat on the bed together. Without much thought, Kyle reached for Stan’s hat and pulled it off his head. 

“Sorry, just thought you might be hot.” Kyle said.

“I love you.” Stan told him. Stan was a mess, his hair disheveled, face flushed. 

The words clawed at Kyle’s heart, but he knew never to trust a thing an addict said--even if he wanted to. Kyle pulled Stan’s head into his chest and held him tightly. He waited for Stan to fall asleep before tucking him into bed. He said goodbye to his best friend the next morning. Stan came back the same, just better at keeping secrets. Kyle knew when Stan would drink. In between classes, after school, sometimes he would sneak it into his morning coffee. Kyle would smell it on Stan’s breath, then offer him a mint. And maybe it made Kyle a bad person helping Stan hide his addiction, but he enjoyed that he was the only one who knew. Stan thanked him every day, and Kyle hated himself for it. Rehab may have been months ago but no matter what Stan did, Kyle could never stop being completely infatuated with his best friend. 

Kyle finally stopped slumping against the countertop in the kitchen and grabbed himself a drink of spiked punch. Heidi waved him down from across the room. He joined her circle of friends, Tweek, Craig, and Bebe. Heidi and Kyle had dated briefly in grade school, but relationships aren’t exactly real in elementary school anyways. She had started showing interest in him within the past few days. It was only because Stan had encouraged him to cut his hair and start styling it. 

“You’re cute when you’re not moping around,” Heidi said. “Where’s the rest of your friends?”

“Around.” Kyle said awkwardly. “You know how Kenny and Cartman are. Have you seen Stan?”

“Yeah, he was with Wendy not too long ago. I think they went upstairs.” Bebe rolled her eyes. “They’ve been all over each other since...well…” 

_I know_ , Kyle wanted to say. 

“You’ve been replaced.” Craig joked, but it still stung. 

Kyle wanted to ask Tweek and Craig how they made it look so easy, being gay. They walked around holding hands, kissing, arms wrapped around each other. Maybe it was easy because it had always been that way. Craig and Tweek, “the first gay couple of South Park” had been celebrated in fourth grade. Even though Mr. Garrison had been dating Mr. Slave years prior. It was a weird thing to rejoice, it made being gay feel less normal, but at least the town was accepting. Could Kyle expect the same support if he confessed his feelings to Stan? He couldn’t guarantee that Stan would even reciprocate. He was still dating Wendy, and they loved each other as far as he knew. 

Everything his classmates said had started going in one ear and out the other. His mind was on other things. 

“Stan, where are you going?!” Wendy could be heard shouting from upstairs. A drunken Stan stormed past. “Stan!” Bebe and Heidi went to comfort their now crying friend, and Kyle followed after Stan. 

Stan gave Kyle a familiar look. Helpless. Desperate. Kyle dragged Stan by the hand to his house, he didn’t need an explanation. It was the same every time. Stan would have three drinks, feeling good, then a fourth, and he would be reminded of why he hated himself. On the fifth, he was loud and bold, saying anything to forget how pathetic he felt. On the sixth drink, it was the seventh, and on the seventh drink, it was the tenth. Kyle was angry, mad that Stan didn’t get better after rehab, but upset that he always rescued him. Stan sat down on Kyle’s bed, and drank the glass of water he was given. The scene would play out the same as always. Kyle would act without thinking, Stan would talk without meaning, and they would both forget in the morning (Kyle would try to, at least). 

Kyle collapsed onto the bed. Stan was sitting at the edge, still drinking the water. He would take a glance at Kyle every few minutes. 

“Are you not gonna ask what happened?” Stan asked.

“No.” Kyle said.

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be the same as last time.” Stan was quiet for a bit after that response. Thinking. “The night before rehab, I wanted to see you.”

Kyle’s attention was back on Stan.

“That’s why Wendy kicked me out.”

“You were _drunk_.” Kyle said.

Stan huffed air amusedly. “Yeah, that too. I still wanted to see you. There you were, waiting for me.”

“Wendy called me.”

“You still came.” Stan said. “I meant what I said that night.”

“You’re drunk right now too, anything you say is discredited.” Kyle said. “Take a cold shower, sober up, then we can talk.” He scratched the back of his head, disappointed in himself for letting Stan off again. 

Stan soaked in the silence before getting up and wandering to the bathroom. He wasn’t _that_ drunk, not enough to make the hurt go away. Stan knew that Mr. Broflovski kept a secret stash of whiskey in a cabinet in his desk, just a room away from the bathroom. Stan could creep into the office, take a swig (maybe two) and dampen his hair to act like he showered. He could savor his high before it got low, _really_ low. But he hated hurting Kyle. Stan didn’t care enough to strip so he sat on the floor of the shower and turned on the cold water. It was as refreshing as sobering up could be. His mind wasn’t hazy anymore, his words didn’t tangle or slur. 

Kyle knocked at the door of the bathroom, remembering he sent his wasted friend in there alone. No response. He opened the door and saw Stan sitting with his head buried in his knees. Kyle joined him on the outskirts of the shower after turning the water off. Stan looked at his friend, lip quivering, eyes still glassy. 

“Why don’t you love me?” Stan asked.

“Are you _still_ drunk?” Kyle accused. “Stan-”

“I’m NOT drunk.” The words came out like a hiss. “I tried so hard to get better, I really did, but then I see you.”

“What are you talking about?” Kyle questioned.

“Fuck, dude. Sometimes I don’t know if I want to be you or be _with_ you.” Stan rested his head back against the tiled wall. 

Kyle was too shocked and his feelings too jumbled to form a response so he waited for Stan to continue speaking. 

“It’s so hard existing like this.” Stan said. 

Kyle couldn’t think of how to comfort him. In any other case, he always had something to say. But the look on Stan’s face was enough to silence him forever. He couldn’t find the words to make everything okay. Water dripped from the shower head...drip...drip...drip...shattering against the shower floor--it made the quiet louder. Kyle’s heart and mind were at odds. One was telling him to make a move and the other was telling him to stay grounded, but he was already floating an inch off the floor. He moved Stan’s soggy hair out of his face; he needed a haircut. Kyle wasted no time to kiss the mouth that cursed his name. Stan kissed him back. Relief washed over the two, as if all the world’s problems could be solved with that one kiss. Then regret punched Kyle in the chest. Taking advantage of the vulnerable, he was no better than Cartman. He waited years for this very moment, but it didn’t satisfy him. Not that he needed more, it just wasn’t how he envisioned it. It wasn’t some great coming out, confession of love, or explosive passion--it was Stan crying on Kyle’s bathroom floor, hopelessly pleading for someone to love him. As much as Kyle _did_ love his best friend, Stan could never reciprocate. 

Kyle pulled away, breathless and on the brink of despair. Stan put his hand on Kyle’s neck to bring their lips together again, but Kyle stopped him. 

“You’re still drunk,” Kyle’s voice croaked, “we shouldn’t do this.” 

Stan had never felt more sober, but he was unable to find the words to tell Kyle. They didn’t share the same bed that night. Stan woke up earlier than Kyle, stumbled downstairs, and caught himself staring at the puffy-eyed ginger sleeping on the couch. He must have cried himself to sleep. Stan said nothing; he left. 

Kyle emptied his backpack into his locker at school. Down the hall, Stan and Wendy were leaning against their lockers chatting. Wendy kissed Stan gently, aware of his fragility; Stan wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her deeper. For a moment, Kyle imagined it was an act, and Stan would walk up to him, kiss him better than last night, and they would walk to class together. But he weighed himself down to stop from flying into the clouds.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly Kyle is so relatable in this.


End file.
